“No,” he cut in, reminded yet again that she’d been made to believe a lie. He still had difficulty remembering that her family had been as callous with her as with him.
Drawing her resistant body into his arms, he pulled her back down on the bed. When she lay rigid beside him, he stifled an oath. He was handling this very clumsily. But he had never expected that she’d thought him the villain of the piece all this time.
Propping his head on his hand, he stared down at her jutting chin and mutinous expression. “I see why you couldn’t look for me. Why you felt compelled to go off on your own.” He laid his hand on her belly. “But to run off to Scotland? It never occurred to me to search beyond the Continent, because I would never have thought you’d travel so far from your home.”
She met his gaze imploringly. “I had to get away from them, don’t you see? They wanted me to create more fakes so they could pass them off as real, to make money. I couldn’t . . . I wouldn’t . . .”
“Ah,” he said, beginning to understand. “They wanted to turn you into a criminal, too.” She’d really meant it when she’d said she’d been trying to escape her family. “So where are they now?”
“Still in Paris, I hope.” She relaxed slightly against him. “I haven’t seen them since I took my chance to get away from them.”
He caught his breath. He could write to Vidocq in Paris and have the man find them there, then keep an eye on them until Victor could get there. “I suppose they’re using false names.”
She nodded. “They did so from the moment they booked passage on the ship in Amsterdam. And they took other measures to change their appearance—Gerhart grew a beard and Jacoba and I cut our hair.”
Which explained why neither he nor anyone else had been able to track them after they left their lodgings.
“Gerhart had some friend who’d been a spy for the French in the war and knew how to create false papers,” she added. “That’s how I learned that such things could be obtained for a price.”
“So the name you used to come here isn’t the one you used to leave Amsterdam and enter France.”
“Of course not. I didn’t want Gerhart and Jacoba to find me, remember? It took a bit of doing, but I was able to discover someone in Paris to create false papers for me, as Gerhart’s friend had done for them.”
Nothing showed how much she distrusted her family more than the fact that she’d gone to such lengths to evade them. Then again, perhaps she’d simply been worried that her family would be caught eventually, so she’d changed her name to make sure she wasn’t.
But in that case, she wouldn’t have chosen his mother’s name. So far, her version of events was much more plausible than any of the conjectures he’d made. Which meant that the villains of this piece were definitely Gerhart and Jacoba.
He forced a nonchalant expression to his face. “So what names did they take?” he said casually.
Apparently that didn’t work, for her gaze shot to his. “Why?” When he didn’t answer right away, the color drained from her face. “Victor, what do you intend to do?”
He played dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, yes, you do. Now that you’re certain my family and I were behind the thefts—”
“Not you,” he broke in.
“I made the parure,” she corrected him. “The authorities will consider me culpable. Why, you practically do, even knowing what happened.”
“That’s not true.”
“Hear me out.” Her breath grew ragged. “It’s clear that you want vengeance—”
“Justice,” he shot back. When she flinched, he cupped her cheek. “Don’t you want that, too, after what they did? Don’t you want to see them punished?”
“I would, if there was any way to do it without punishing me as well. And there is none.” She shifted to face him. “If you capture them and haul them back to Amsterdam to stand trial, they will blame me for the theft. It will be their word against mine. And as you said, they didn’t have the skills to make the parure. I did—a point they are sure to make. I could very well hang, and they could get off scot-free.”
His breath stopped in his throat. He hadn’t thought of that possibility. Of course, until this night, he’d assumed she deserved the same punishment they did. But since she didn’t . . .
“Nonsense,” he rasped. “Once I testify, there will be no question that they were guilty and not you.”
“You’re my husband, and you were once a suspect. Do you really think that the authorities will trust your word over my family’s?”
Perhaps if he brought his cousin into it to vouch for his character. But that would mean dragging Max through another scandal. And during a trial, all the nastiness about Victor’s father would come out, and that, too, would affect Max and Lisette.
Damn it all. It had been far easier seeking justice when he thought she deserved it.
He gritted his teeth. “You can’t expect me to just forget what they did—to me, to you, to both of us. They deserve to suffer.”
“Oh, believe me, I agree,” she said softly. “But I don’t see how they can be made to suffer without ruining my life. And possibly yours. Which would be patently unfair, since neither of us did anything wrong.”
But Dom and Tristan had resources he did not. They might be able to build a case without damaging her interests—or involving Max.
“Surely the truth will count for something,” he protested. “We have the note, which isn’t written in your hand. A good examiner of documents—and I happen to know one—could easily affirm that it was forged. That alone throws suspicion on them and off of you. The very fact that they’ve been living the high life in Paris while you struggled to build a business here also adds to their guilt.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Does it? You were telling Mr. Gordon just this morning about how I either used the money to build the business or I fled to keep from being caught. My coming here clearly didn’t eliminate my guilt in your eyes. How will it eliminate it in the eyes of the court?”
God, he hated it when she made sense. “So you’re saying that I should just sit here and let them get away with it.”
“I’m saying that whatever you do is bound to hurt me as well.”
“I don’t believe that!” When she stiffened, he moderated his tone. “I only want to do some preliminary investigation, to see if I can build a case. If we take Gerhart and Jacoba by surprise, we may even find evidence in their lodgings. Just tell me their aliases, and—”
“No,” she said, her eyes wary. “I dare not risk it.”
His temper rose. He couldn’t believe she would thwart him on this! “Now that I know what city they’re in,” he said, fixing her with a hard glance, “I can probably find them without the names, especially since I have connections to the French secret police. I’m giving you the chance to make it easier for me—but that doesn’t mean that if you don’t tell me, I won’t pursue it.”
Fear lit her eyes briefly before she wiped all expression from her face. “You do what you have to do.” Slipping from the bed, she began to gather up her clothes. “But I will not put my neck in the noose for your vengeance. I have too much to lose.”
A curse left him as he watched her slip on her drawers and stockings. This wasn’t what he wanted. And he doubted that she wanted it, either.
He left the bed to draw her into his arms. “Don’t you trust me to protect you, lieveke?” he asked softly. “I would never let anyone harm you, I swear it.”
She remained rigid. “You may not have a choice. Once you pursue vengeance—”
“Justice, damn it!” he growled. “If I wanted vengeance, I would exact my own punishment.”
Her eyes lifted to him, large and luminous in the firelight. “Is that why you came here? To exact your punishment against me?” When he just stared at her, wondering how much to admit, she said, “Why did you come here, Victor? How did you even find me after all these years?”
He tensed. “Does
it matter?”
She gazed steadily up at him. “You say I should trust you to protect me. You want me to throw myself into your hands, but you won’t tell me something so small as how you found me. Or why you’re grand friends with a duke. Or even whether you’re really Lady Lochlaw’s cousin. Clearly you don’t yet entirely trust me.”
“That’s not true.” Except that it was.
If he told her about the duke, that still wouldn’t explain why he’d come here. If he told her about the Duke’s Men, he’d have to admit that he’d been hired to find out her secrets.
Then she could threaten to tell the baron about the dowager’s actions. Since Lochlaw was about as discreet as a four-year-old, the man would instantly plague his mother over what she’d done, and his mother would complain to Dom about Victor’s lack of discretion.
And if Dom were angry enough over it, he would refuse to help Victor bring Gerhart and Jacoba to justice—especially if there was a chance it might embroil the duke and Dom’s half sister in scandal. Then Victor would be stuck trying to capture the Hendrixes without help.
Out of nowhere came the voices of his inquisitors. Admit it—she learned the truth about you and your father, learned how low you really are, and she aspired toward more. You were the guard, you besotted arse—that’s why she chose you. And like a dolt, you helped her.
Damnation, that was the real reason he didn’t want to reveal his high connections. No matter how much he told himself that everything the prince’s guardsmen had said was a lie, part of him feared it wasn’t. Part of him still wanted to be sure that she wanted him for him, not for his connections or anything else.
Isa regarded him expectantly a moment longer, but when he offered nothing more, she sighed and returned to dressing. “It’s late, Victor. I have to be at the shop in the morning, so I must go. We can discuss this more tomorrow.” She slid her corset down over her chemise and turned her back to him. “Would you lace me up, please?” she said in a prim voice that annoyed him.
He strode up behind her to catch her about the waist and pull her back against him. “I don’t want you to go,” he murmured into her silky hair. “Stay here tonight.”
“You know I can’t.” Her breath was coming quickly. “I have a life in Edinburgh. If I stay out all night, my neighbors will notice, and I’ll be the subject of gossip.”
“Because you spent the night with your husband?” he bit out.
“They think my husband is dead, remember?” She faced him, her expression once more wary. “Of course, if you choose to tell them otherwise, there’s not much I can do about it. But then they’ll know that I lied about my past. And if you tell them why—”
“I wouldn’t do that to you, damn it.” He caressed her cheek. “Honestly, lieveke, I don’t want the world knowing about the theft any more than you do.”
She dropped her gaze to his chest. “You can’t avoid that if you pursue justice for Jacoba and Gerhart. The whole world will learn of it then.”
“You’ve made your point. And I admit it’s a good one. But there must be a way to solve this. I just need to think, to decide what to do.”
“I understand.” A small smile graced her lips as she met his gaze once more. “But you won’t get any thinking done if I stay.”
“That’s an understatement,” he muttered.
Already he was rousing again, wanting her again. It seemed he couldn’t be sensible or reasonable or even logical when it came to her.
“Fine,” he added and turned her so he could lace her up. “I’ll take you home.”
“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Even as he scowled at her back, she added, “That’s as bad as my staying here the night.” She glanced at the clock. “If a mysterious gentleman brings me home at midnight, my neighbors will almost certainly talk.”
He jerked the ties of her stays hard enough to make her gasp. “I daresay the baron has brought you home late a time or two.”
“Not that late. And my neighbors and my servants know him. They don’t know you.”
She had an answer for everything. But that didn’t change one essential fact.
He tied off her corset, then turned her to face him again. “They will know me eventually, lieveke—I promise you that.” He clasped her head in his hands. “I refuse to lose my wife again. We will figure out how to manage it so we can be together, without ruining what you’ve built here. But let me make one thing clear: I’m not letting you go.”
The yearning that flashed across her face was unmistakable. “I don’t want you to.” She covered his hands with hers. “But unraveling this will take time. And I prefer to maintain my respectability until we can settle matters.”
Although he knew she was only protecting herself, it chafed him to watch her leave. “I’m beginning to miss the old Isa,” he grumbled, “the one who deferred to her husband.”
She grew solemn. “I hope not. She was the one who didn’t believe in you when she should have. Who didn’t stand up for herself.”
“Who was sweet and shy and guileless—”
“Not guileless,” she said earnestly. “I hid the imitation parure from you. I hid my family’s greed. I didn’t tell you what they wanted from me.”
“True.” Back then he had thought he knew her, but he’d been wrong. He wasn’t even entirely sure he knew her now. She was still hiding things from him. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did.
Or was he just so used to distrusting her that he simply didn’t know how to begin trusting her again?
“So I don’t want that Isa back,” she said. “And you shouldn’t, either.”
The fact that she clearly regretted so much of what had happened made it hard for him not to trust her. And he had to admit that he did like his new, bolder wife.
“Very well. We’ll put the old Isa to rest,” he said, running his thumb over her lower lip. “But the new Isa had best get used to my being around. Because I’m not going anywhere ever again. You’re still my wife, and that isn’t going to change. Young Lochlaw will just have to look elsewhere for a bride.”
“As if Rupert could ever be a match for you,” she said lightly, then brushed her lips over his.
With a growl he drew her back for a longer kiss, reveling when she wrapped herself about him like a tree putting down roots.
She might not yet trust him completely, and she might have doubts about how he wanted to handle the matter of her relations, but one thing was certain. She desired him as much as or more than the old Isa.
And that would be his way back into her life.
11
ISA KNEW SHE was in trouble when she allowed Victor to take her back to bed. How did he send her good sense right out the window when he kissed and caressed her? As he made love to her fast and hard and raw, she lost herself in it with such abandon that she forgot everything that still stood between them.
Only afterward, when he fell into a doze, was she brought back to her senses. She looked over at him and sighed. When he was asleep, he looked so much like his old self. How many nights had she dreamed of him like this, only to awaken to the loss of him? How many years had she yearned fruitlessly for the husband who never came?
And now he was back, and she wanted nothing more than to take up where they’d left off. Except for one thing.
Amalie. She should have told him about her tonight. He deserved to know he had a daughter.
But what if his burning urge for revenge on Jacoba and Gerhart couldn’t be assuaged? What if he insisted upon a trial, insisted upon dragging her back to Amsterdam? What would happen to Amalie? Would he be willing to give up his vengeance for his daughter? Or would he insist that he could manage a trial and investigation without harming any of them?
Isa wanted to believe in his ability to save them. He’d said he’d looked for her all these years, and tonight he’d seemed to accept what she’d told him about the past. But what about in the morning, after he’d had time to think about it? How could she trust him whe
n he still kept so many secrets?
Until she knew why he was here and what he intended to do, she had to leave her choices open in case she had to flee again. In case he got so angry over her hiding his daughter from him that he lashed out and tried to assert his rights to the girl.
Because once he knew about Amalie, everything would change. For one thing, if he realized exactly how much Jacoba and Gerhart had taken from him, he might be so furious at them that he could no longer proceed with caution. It had become clear to her that when Victor was angry, he didn’t think straight. So before she put her life—and the life of her child—in his hands, she had to know what she was up against.
Slipping from the bed, she halted when he mumbled something and turned over. She stood with her breath tight in her throat until he slid back into sleep; then she edged away.
Creeping into the other room with her clothes, she dressed quickly and put her hair back up as best she could. Then she found her reticule and headed downstairs. To her surprise, the butler came out of a little room off the foyer to greet her.
“Is my horse still out front?” she asked, wondering if he’d had it stabled while she was upstairs.
“I would imagine so, madam,” he said stiffly. “You left no instructions regarding its disposition.”
She started to leave, then thought of something and turned back. “Excuse me, Mr. Jenkins, but would you tell me something?”
“If I can,” he said warily.
“Do you happen to know how Mr. Cale and your master, the duke, are connected?”
His stare was as frigid as the winds off of the Firth of Forth. “I’m afraid you will have to ask Mr. Cale that, madam.”
She’d known the man would probably be circumspect, but she had to ask. It worried her that Victor was keeping his presence in Edinburgh so mysterious. Something odd was definitely afoot.
As she rode for home, she couldn’t for the life of her think of what it might be. If Victor had been searching for her, what had prompted him to look here? Or was he really Lady Lochlaw’s cousin, and his appearance here sheer coincidence?
When the Rogue Returns Page 13
